


if we've got something to say then now is the time

by whenlifehandsyou



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: D/s, Face-Fucking, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, awkward seduction techniques, emotionally significant blow jobs, trying new things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23869105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenlifehandsyou/pseuds/whenlifehandsyou
Summary: For @iowa_knows_what_he_did in the Crooked Exchange!Thanks to the pals, L. K. and L., for above and beyond levels of handholding, story planning, and kindness!Thanks to okaystop for running the exchange.As always in this fandom, keep it secret, keep it safe.
Relationships: Emily Favreau/Jon Favreau, Emily Favreau/Jon Favreau/Jon Lovett, Ronan Farrow/Jon Lovett
Comments: 13
Kudos: 49
Collections: Crooked Exchange 2020





	if we've got something to say then now is the time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iowa_knows_what_he_did](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iowa_knows_what_he_did/gifts).

> For @iowa_knows_what_he_did in the Crooked Exchange! 
> 
> Thanks to the pals, L. K. and L., for above and beyond levels of handholding, story planning, and kindness! 
> 
> Thanks to okaystop for running the exchange. 
> 
> As always in this fandom, keep it secret, keep it safe.

They're in the middle of a deeply indulgent Sunday morning necking session when Lovett's phone buzzes.

EBF: _When you and Ronan are done in there I have a favor I need_

EBF: _Need is a strong word… Request?_

EBF: _Nope, need. Definitely need._

EBF: _Jesus you guys are taking forever. Jon's on his way over, FYI._

Lovett flops back on the mattress, muttering darkly. Ronan rolls over onto him, annoyingly heavy.

"What happened to no phones?" Ronan murmurs, nibbling Lovett's earlobe in that way he knows Lovett kinda hates. 

"Why, when I said 'I'm giving Emily and Jon a key', did you not take me by the shoulders, stare into my eyes, and say, with that firm tone I love so much, 'No.'?"

"Because you and the Favreaus are a package deal, Jonathan, obviously, and I don't know about you but I'm certainly not going to be the one to set that boundary. Besides, I think it's nice," Ronan says. He cocks his head performatively, cupping one hand behind the pale shell of his ear. "Ahh, Project Runway. Just Emily, then."

Lovett can't argue with that, and for all his grousing, he's glad nobody tried to talk him out of giving them a housekey. Emily and Jon have always respected the house and never ventured past the couch without specific invitation, and it gives Lovett a happy little buzz under his ribs to roll sleepily out of bed and find Emily, similarly disheveled and barely more verbal than a caveman, shoving a Starbucks cup at him at his kitchen counter, sipping her own drink in silence until Jon turns up from his run to fry up eggs, Ronan finally emerging like a wolfhound at the scent of food. It's nice, having the Favses in their new house, just five minutes away. 

It's nice most of the time. 

"I don't want to have to put on pants," Lovett whines.

"Then don't? I'm not," Ronan says, pulling on briefs and one of his ridiculous silk robes. 

"I hate you," Lovett says, but follows his lead (in a totally _normal_ terrycloth Parachute robe, thank you very much).

"Emily!" Ronan crows, turning up the wattage on his smile as he tugs Lovett into the living room. "It's been, what, four hours? How _are_ you?" He gives her a hug, dropping a kiss onto her hair. She smushes her face into the robe, and gives as good as she gets. 

"Four hours well-spent, sounds like!" she replies, not an ounce of awkwardness or contrition in her tone. She peels herself away from Ronan, patting his still-flushed cheek smartly. Maybe it's the recent flush of endorphins lingering in his body, but Lovett can't bring himself to feel even the usual resentment at their easy physicality together. Lovett, who never touches another human being without overthinking it, can't help but feel something go slightly softer in his hypertension at seeing them.

"We might've gotten away with it, too, iif some pesky interloper hadn't interrupted us," Lovett grouses out of the side of his mouth in a cartoon villain voice. The joke lacks bite, and they all know it--Emily indulges him with a chuckle and pulls them both onto the couch, Lovett in the middle.

Uh oh. Lovett usually gets the far corner, Pundit's favorite spot, and Emily usually stretches herself out with her feet encroaching on his space and her shoulders nestled against Ronan's. The fact that she puts Lovett in the middle is… well.

"What is it you need, Emily?" Ronan says, his voice taking on that warm, open tone he tends to spring on unsuspecting interview prospects. Lovett shoots him a grateful look, the anxiety that's already started to pick up his heartbeat ebbing a bit. 

"Jon will be here in a few minutes, but he asked me to start without him." She settles herself primly, sitting upright and not touching Lovett, one hand absently buried in Pundit's fur. Lovett makes a mental note to get the dog in for a haircut soon. "Ronan," she says in a low voice, "Jon and I are wondering if you--and Lovett, too, obviously--would be amenable to you lending him. Lovett. To us."

They both stare at her for a moment. Lovett opens his mouth, but she interrupts him. 

"For sex. He wants to try me making him suck your cock."

Ronan, damn him, recovers before Lovett does. "Fascinating," he murmurs, then looks at Lovett. "I thought you said Jon's interest in men was non-practicing?"

"I did! We talked about it, it was back during Keepin' It 1600, he was curious but wasn't planning on going anywhere with it!" The couch feels like it's shifted under him in some cosmic fundamental way, which might be vestiges of last night's edible consumption lingering but probably it's the matter-of-fact threesome invitation Emily laid on him while he's sitting _right next to his fiance_.

"Jon wanted me to 'feel you out subtly'," Emily says with finger air quotes, "But I know what it does to your anxiety if you sense there's something I'm not telling you, and I'm a terrible liar, so the bandaid approach seemed the best option. Was it?" She shifts awkwardly on the couch.

"It's just… I'm… you've met me? A gay? Here on the couch with my very hot fiance, Ronan Farrow, who if you haven't noticed is right here? And you've met you and your husband? My mostly straight best friend and his very cis not at all a guy wife?"

The front door chimes with the second interloper of the afternoon. 

"We're in here!" Emily calls, getting up and snuggling a grumbling Pundit to clear a space on the couch for Jon. He comes into the living room, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Hi, coward," Emily murmurs affectionately to him, shoving him unceremoniously onto the couch to stare at Lovett and Ronan. She perches on the arm of the couch, leaning down to murmur into Jon's ear. "I told them. We're in the sputtering phase of resolving the question now."

"Hi guys," Favs says, with a patented aw shucks wave. "So, uh, what do you think?

Lovett can't help but needle him. "So what brings this on now? You're looking for… what, exactly? In giving cocksucking the ole' college try at age almost-forty?"

"Yes," Jon replies, "And who better to ask than my best friend, whom I trust with this very sensitive vulnerable request! We've been discussing the idea for a while and it just feels like… why not bring in an expert who we both love?"

"Wow, uh…" Lovett turns to Ronan for help reacting to this whole… this. 

Ronan is looking very cat-who-caught-the-canary about it all. "Is it okay if I ask questions about the… plans? I want to make sure I'm properly understanding what we're discussing. Specifically," he says.

"Oh no, I am aaaabsolutely not wearing enough pants for this conversation," Lovett says, covering his eyes with his hands. 

"Talk it over together, then put some pants on at six tonight and come over, both of you. Obviously you should be there to be Lovett's emotional support Ronan." Emily says, and she leans forward and ruffles Lovett's hair. She pats Pundit once more, then stands and deposits her in Lovett's lap. 

She slips on her sneakers, then turns back, pointing at Lovett. "You know I love you, right? We love you."

He scoffs. "Please." Lovett's heart is beating really fast. "We'll talk, okay? I'm…" he glances at Ronan, then says more firmly, "we'll talk."

Once they leave, Ronan and Jon sit in silence for a heavy minute.

"They're really serious, just imagine the possibilities here, Jonathan! "

"I love you," Lovett says, and crawls into Ronan's lap to claim a kiss. "I know you can't _wait_ to deconstruct that conversation in _detail_, but first can we _please_ go have sex about this? I need to get off at least one more time before I can even begin to process any of what just happened."

"I don't see why we can't be efficient, Jonathan," Ronan says, shoving his fingers into Lovett's bathrobe and dipping into the waistband of his briefs with practiced ease. "Go on, just _try_ to tell me that this," he punctuates the comment with a rude pull on Lovett's half-a-boner, "isn't because of the mere concept of one Jon Favreau on his knees, wanting nothing more than a cock in his mouth."

"At Emily's feet, you mean," Lovett says, gasping and wiggling out of his briefs. "Fuck, c'mon, Ronan," he whines, in the shameless way he knows Ronan will respond to and fast.

"Mmmm, yes, an attractive concept, to be sure, but I want you to stay on topic, Jonathan," Ronan murmurs, pulling Lovett into his lap and pinning his hips with a heavy arm slung across, the other hand occupied with an agonizingly dry handjob. It's delicious, and grounding. Jon can feel Ronan's own reaction to the conversation pressed up against his lower back. 

"There's nothing about the concept of Favs on his knees taking Emily's cock while I dirty talk them that isn't on topic, asshole," Lovett says. "Yes, please, that but more…" 

Ronan hums. "Let's focus on Emily… she's intimately knows the man she married. He's asking for your help with cocksucking, but she said specifically that she's going to _make_ him."

Lovett lets a whine escape from where it's been gathering at the back of his throat. It feels exhilarating and a little terrifying to be entertaining a wealth of fantasies he had always kept firmly out of bounds.

"It's your choice, of course, what you want to do, but I for one think it could be a… fruitful line of inquiry," Ronan's voice is husky, his breath coming a little ragged at the nape of Jon's neck. He nips teasingly at Lovett's neck. "I trust them, you do, too. I've seen how they are with you."

"It's not… why'd they ask for me?" Lovett blurts out, his cheeks burning. "Why not you, too? Are you… annoyed about that?" He groans a little at himself, aching for Ronan to get on with things but needing his answer to this, now.

"I'm right here," Ronan says, voice gentling. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to watch, but they asked for you for a reason. They _want you_, Jonathan, they trust you--us--to ask. I take that as a great compliment." His hand on Jon's cock moves faster, firmer, with the obvious intent to wring an orgasm out of Lovett and the surety of knowledge that he knows exactly the way to do it. 

Lovett feels very exposed, cock out, bare ass nestled back against Ronan's briefs, and the _holy shit, what alternate universe do I suddenly inhabit_ feeling catches up to him the way your stomach catches up on the deep drop of a roller coaster. "Fuck," he manages, with feeling, and it means _I don't know_ and _what if it goes bad_ and _I love you so much_ and _if you don't pay attention to this handjob I'm going to murder you_ all at once. Ronan just snorts, holding Lovett even tighter as he brings his palm up to Lovett's mouth to lick, and then they don't talk for several more minutes. 

Pundit snuffles in annoyance and retreats, unnoticed, down the hall to curl up on the bed. 

*****

"Okay," Lovett says when Emily answers the door. She gives him a quizzical look, half _what do you mean, 'okay'?_ and half _you have a key, why did you ring the doorbell, you weirdo?_. 

Lovett pushes past her, depositing Pundit on the floor of the entryway and unclipping her leash. She heads off to see about stealing Leo's latest chew toy. "Where is he?" He means it to sound firm and in control, but it comes out a little squeakier than he had intended.

"Where's Ronan?" Emily counters, but points down the hall to the kitchen.

"Showering, he'll be here soon. I wanted to get here first to make Jon squirm a little," he says. 

"Fair!" Emily grins devilishly. "One of my favorite past-times."

He clasps his hands in front of him and makes sure he has her attention. "I want to… I gotta check in with him. Alone." He does a wince-smile. "There… might be kissing? Are you cool with that?"

Emily's smile gentles, and her nod is deliberate. "I, yes. God. Thank you," she says, and grabs him in a hug. Lovett pats her back a little awkwardly, then shuffles into the kitchen while she retreats to the backyard with Leo to give them some space. 

"Lovett!" Jon's lounging in the kitchen, drinking a hideous greyish-green smoothie, flushed and sweaty--he must be just back from an afternoon run because of _course_ he is, Lovett thinks. Favs grabs a can of Diet Coke out of the door and slides it across the island to Lovett in greeting. 

"Don't try to buy my affection with caffeine and aspartame, I will not be appeased," Lovett says, cracking the can open. "So, about this request Emily laid on us this morning. Pretty weird to find out this way, _now_, instead of ever before in the years we've known each other that your interest in guys generally, me particularly, iis more than academic." 

Jon looks slightly sweatier, and his eyes are darting everywhere except at Lovett. 

"Don't even think about playing dumb," Lovett warns, quirking an eyebrow. 

Jon finds something very interesting to look at on the floor of the kitchen. "I know, Lovett. I should've said something. I shouldn't have hid behind Emily. I just… look, I just didn't want to fuck everything up, or upset you. I guess I did, though, huh."

"Sure," Lovett scoffs. "I have to find out from my best friend's _wife_ that he's in the market for a transformative and unconventional gay experience with me? We're grown-ups! We _own a company_ together, Jon, this isn't middle school passing notes! It's frankly… it's _homophobic_ that you think anything you say to me would change any of this." 

Jon sighs and rubs the back of his neck. It makes his stupid arm muscles bunch against the athletic shirt, which is sticking to him, and none of this is actually very fair as far as Lovett is concerned. He's looking like Lovett kicked his puppy, but also him, because _he's_ the puppy.

"C'mon, Jon," he says, softening. "It's me. I'm an asshole who'll make fun of you for the rest of our lives for this, but you know I love you. Both of you," he adds, jabbing his thumb in the general direction of Emily.

"Sure, but… you and Ronan are so solid, and we all know how much you hate to be out of your depth and not know what's going on, right," Jon says. "I just… didn't want to pull the rug out from under you. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, but if you--or, let's be clear, _Emily_\--hadn't done it we couldn't find out what lovely, uh, hardwood floors have been hidden under that rug."

Jon stares at him. "Really? That's how you're stretching the metaphor? I can't believe I hired you."

"I haven't had enough Diet Coke yet! You know I'm better on the second edit, I have to workshop these things! You need me to go punch up the central metaphor of our lives and get back to you?"

"Where's Ronan on the whole... rug?" Jon waves his arms at the floor, capitulating to the bit with a very Favreauean measure of quiet vulnerability. 

"He's spinning all sorts of imagines. He would fully roll us up in the rug like an old timey mobster trying to move some bodies if he didn't have ethical standards about consent and self-aware agency. Speaking of which, I want you to know that, uh, if we're going to try this I'd really like to put kissing on the table, too?" He scuffs the floor with his toe. Fuck, how awkward can one person get?

"Kissing… yes? It… it didn't occur to me to get to third base without hitting first… first?" Jon says. His brows are furrowing in that stormy way they get when he's about to get outraged on someone's behalf. "Why wouldn't we do kissing?"

Lovett throws his hands up in the air. "Oh my god, the bases metaphor, you may want to suck my cock but you are still the most basic straight boy I know. Look, when you're a small young idiot gay messing around with closeted dick it gets a little Pretty Woman, perfunctory, transactional and it's… it doesn't feel great, turns out."

Jon blinks at him, then crosses the kitchen to stand right in Lovett's personal space, leaning one lanky hip against the island and slouching to be on Lovett's level. His voice is soft, and the proximity is doing things to Lovett's emotions. The hair on his arm raises when Jon's hand brushes it. "There's no universe in which I wouldn't want to make out with you before, during, and after getting on my knees for you, Lovett. I'm sorry guys can be so shitty, but, uh. That's really not me. No qualms about kissing here. Just performance anxiety, and I guess… I was afraid because I wasn't really sure what I wanted and it felt really huge to ask you to come into this without me knowing that, and it's also kind of embarrassing? I'm like forty years old, what am I doing contemplating the sexual experimentation of a kid half my age? Who am I to be fucking around with people's emotions like that? I should… I should know what I want before I go for it, right?"

Lovett huffs. "Jon. Seriously. I'm sure your dick is great and everything, but this? You and me and Emily? It's not a dim bar hookup. You try this thing, everything's going to be a little weird for a hot minute but nothing big is going to change. We're already in it for the long haul. If there's a sexual experiment you want to have, well, I say sow those wild oats! Carefully! With someone--someone's!--you trust not to plaster it all over Page Six." 

Jon kisses him.

It's been years since Lovett has kissed someone new, and for a moment he's thrown by the strangeness of it--the particular texture of Jon's lips, chapped and taut, so different from the plush of Ronan's. A little part of Lovett's mind is finally unlocking the firm 'don't fuck up your job and your friendship by thinking about how hot it would be to kiss Jon Favreau' box and the experience is disorienting, fascinating, and delightful. 

He chases Jon's lips, nipping when he seems like he might pull away, suddenly greedy for this thing he never let himself consider contemplating before today. He's rewarded with a low groan, Jon grabbing at his arms like he needs something to hang onto, and Lovett can't help but giggle a little into his mouth and kiss the breath out of him. Any vanishingly small concerns he had about whether this was going to work out in practice evaporate entirely.

"I just beat the Postmates delivery guy!" Ronan calls, banging his way into the entry with a lot more noise than is strictly necessary. Favs startles, breaking the kiss. Lovett is almost grateful for the interruption, though--things would have gotten embarrassing very soon. He grabs Favs's neck and presses one more long, dry kiss to his lips, smiling against them as Ronan saunters into the kitchen with a wolf whistle. 

"Only the finest takeout for my friends and my beloved, on the day they might or might not agree to embark on a threeway!"

"Ew, don't say threeway," Emily says as she follows him in, smacking on the arm and taking the bag from him. 

"Babe?" Emily says, catching Jon's eye. He's blushing, but his hand stays put on Lovett's upper arm. He nods, a smile teasing its way across his face. "Good," she says, voice dropping low. "Get my heels for me. You know which ones." She watches him, a satisfied little quirk to her lips, as he disappears into their bedroom.

"Very obedient," Ronan observes. Emily turns to them, and the expression on her face is soft and open in a way that makes Lovett's heart ache a little. 

"How about you?" she asks Ronan. "No FOMO? I told Jon I absolutely wouldn't kick you out of bed but I think...it felt overwhelming, to start with more."

"Sure," Ronan says honestly. "A little. But I know a good opportunity for Jonathan enough to step out of the way and help him make it happen. We're here, aren't we?" he gestures broadly, at L.A., the West Coast, the years themselves maybe. Lovett thinks, not for the first time, that he is a very lucky man.

Emily smiles, then, hesitantly, giving him plenty of room to turn away, pulls Ronan down to brush a chaste kiss on his lips. Ronan seems a little startled, but gets with the program quickly, cupping her face in both hands, prolonging the kiss for a few more seconds and bringing a hectic blush to her cheeks. 

"Wow," Lovett squeaks, staring at them as they pull apart and grin mischievously at each other just as Jon comes back, strappy black heels in hand. He's changed out of his workout clothes, too, into a devastatingly tight white t-shirt and loose chinos.

"Getting started without me?" 

"That was just a thank you," Ronan murmurs. "And a blessing." He says, waving an arm expansively. 

"Sit down, young padawan," Lovett says to Jon, gesturing to the empty barstool by Ronan. "Allow these wizened old fairies bestow our wealth of boner knowledge upon you."

Emily sighs and takes the seat, muttering "we're never going to live this down, are we?" to Jon. 

"Nope," Jon says, popping the 'p'. He grins at Emily, dropping to one knee to slide the heels onto her feet, buckling them in place carefully and dropping a small kiss on her ankle after each one. 

Everyone is quiet for a moment, watching, as Emily cups his chin in one hand, drawing him up to kiss her. It's hot, yes, but also intimate in a way Lovett hadn't even known he had been missing, between them. The air in the room suddenly feels charged, and he reaches for a joke to break it as soon as possible, needing a moment to process the tableau laid out before him. 

"There's really a _je ne sais quoi_ element to a blowjob between men," Lovett starts with a pontificating air. 

"It's not like I've never given a blowjob before," Jon mutters. "I did last week! I don't really know why we're making such a big deal out of this!"

Ronan leans in, scenting blood. "Hold up, last week? Why did Emily call in the big guns if you're already well-practiced?"

Jon's flushed, and it's just as damnably beautiful as ever. "I'm feeling a little like a deer in the headlights. We, ah… Emily has a strap-on. So. It's part of the toolbox, I guess. I… I really like it."

"Well," Ronan says, grinning. "I bet that's a sight to see."

"I need to rewind, if I can deploy an anachronistic metaphor in this digital-only age," Lovett says. He pauses and makes eye contact in turn with everyone around the table. "Why now? Why this? Married life can't just be about searching for that first opportunity to hit up a swinger's club, right?"

"It gets to a point where you just… can't fucking care what other people think and you realize that once you stop doing that, so many of the impossible things you locked away become possible." Emily shrugs. "We're all smart, relatively emotionally intelligent, caring people, " she smirks at Lovett at this, and he responds with the expected expression of umbrage, "We can make this happen if we want it to, and if it sucks for whatever reason… we'll just deal with it like adults."

"You have such a rosy view of the emotional landscape of non-monogamy!" Ronan interjects. "Feelings get real weird when you go off book."

"We haven't tried it in a long time. Too much work," Lovett says, with an apologetic glance at Ronan. 

Jon's voice is careful. "You--We--don't have to do anything, _anything_ you're uncomfortable with. Seriously."

Lovett takes half a beat, watching the dogs race around the kitchen island. It's such a familiar sight, grounding and home. He feels the ever-present knot of anxiety that spans his chest loosen as he smiles.

"I know. But listen, Emily, Jon, _listen_! If you think that I am capable of passing up the, the, the hours of fantasy fodder this opportunity affords, you would be very, very, so very wrong."

Jon barks out a laugh, more relief than humor. Emily leans across the table to clink her glass with Lovett's can of Coke. "Amen, sister," she says with a lascivious wink. 

"So, that's a yes," Jon says, clarifying.

"Do you need it notarized? Yes, all systems go, players take the rink, ah, field, what other toxically masculine metaphors do I need to butcher, here?"

"I think we have the gist," Ronan murmurs. "When?" He seems to be barely resisting the urge to pull up his google calendar like they're making a date for drinks. 

"No time like the present!" Emily chirps.

"Dinner, first, though?" Jon says, his ears a truly fetching shade of red. 

"And negotiations," Lovett adds, frowning quellingly at Emily. 

"Yes, I want to hear more about the scenario you all have in mind," Ronan says. Lovett does his best to hide a giddy half smile. He fails. 

They dig into the food Ronan had Postmated, and Ronan and Emily trade sexual innuendos and increasingly outlandish suggestions that Lovett only half listens to in favor of inhaling his food and focusing on the feeling of Jon's fingers pressing lightly into the small of his back, rubbing idle circles there. It's like now that this thing is out in the open, they can't stop touching each other. 

He tunes right back in when Emily says, "when he's on his knees for me, god, there's really nothing like it," carding her hands through Jon's hair possessively. "He loves it when I fuck his face," she adds, smirking at Lovett.

"I really do," Jon admits. "That time in Sweden, god that was amazing."

"Wait! I thought you had a cold and that's why your voice was wrecked!" Lovett says, grinning. "You jeopardized our international tour just so you could get your rocks off?"

"Oh, no rocks got off that week," Emily says, even more smug. "At least, not his."

Lovett and Ronan turn to stare at Jon, who has polished off his weird keto tacos and is now grinning softly down at his empty plate. Ronan wipes his palm across his face, trying to collect himself before saying, "No pressure, but, uh, I'm really hoping we can , if nothing else, trade notes on these experiences later…"

Emily and Favs exchange a glance. "I'm okay if you are," Jon says softly. "Just…"

"Yeah," she says, and lays a possessive hand on the back of his neck. She looks up at Ronan. "You can stay, Ro," she says. "If you can agree to watching and not touching. This time." She strokes Jon's hairline at the nape of his neck. "He's… we talked about maybe this before you came over.."

"Fuck," Lovett says, with feeling. He points at Ronan. "If you do stay, no backseat driving. I just, I can't." The idea of Ronan's running commentary while Jon's mouth is stretched over his cock is just a little too much. He's going to have a hard enough time keeping it together as it is. 

Ronan, eyes wide, says, "I… actually can't promise that. I'm going to… you should have this without me, Jonathan. If you're okay with it." He looks over to Emily and Jon. "You have no idea how honored I am. Be good to my Jonathan."

"Yeah," Lovett breathes, his heart feeling like it's a bird suddenly grown three times bigger and beating its wings against the bars of his ribs. He stares at Ronan, who stares back, and seeing the look in his familiar face grounds Lovett. "I'm good. Thank you. I'll tell you everything after."

"Last question before you go: condom? We are okay with either yes or no and I can show you recent test results if you want them." 

Lovett's mouth goes dry, and he shares a look with Ronan, who smiles encouragingly and nods. "Um, we are okay with not, in this case."

"I've got my Switch, I'll be in the living room if you need me." Ronan glances once, a little wistfully, at Jon. He swallows and adds, "I'm going to steal your air pods," and comes behind Lovett, leaning down for a filthy kiss as he fishes into his pocket for the headphones. 

"Sure. Love you," Lovett says, grateful. He watches fondly as Ronan beats a hasty retreat. 

"I'm ready," Favs whispers softly. His eyelashes are brushing his cheeks, and his lips are parted, breath panting softly. 

"Fuck," Lovett reiterates. "Em? We haven't talked about…" he feels panic warring with excitement as his emotions go a little haywire. "I'm really really…"

"_Gay_, Lovett, I know. It's me, I know! Is it going to be okay if…" she grips her fingers into the hair at the back of Jon's head, tugging and moving his head around. He moans a little, and his eyes flutter open to stare at Lovett. "We need me to be able to touch him, talk to him, but I can keep it to just him, easy." She glances up at Lovett, the awkwardness of her expression so endearing.

"C'mere," Lovett says, and leans close to them, hand splayed across Jon's collarbone as he leans over to kiss her right where her jaw meets her neck. She hitches a little gasp, tilting her chin to give him better access. "I can, yeah. That'll be good for me," he whispers against her skin, curiosity tangling with the urgency of his lust. He's not ready, maybe never will be, to go further on this particular path, but the shared trust fizzes between them. Jon's pulse kicks up a notch under Lovett's palm.

"Bedroom," she says as he pulls back, pupils dark. It's the hottest _I definitely won't try to have sex with you_ look imaginable. 

They stumble awkwardly down the hall, Emily shooing the dogs out toward the living room with a tossed tennis ball. Jon's mouth is on Lovett's as soon as they both shuck their shirts and pants, a full-body press of muscles and angles and teeth and tongue. Lovett feels lightheaded as Jon's hips press insistently against him, his cock held in check only by the tight black Tommyjohns he's sporting. 

Lovett gives in to the feeling coursing through him, lets his hands wander freely over Jon, digging into his hipbones and scraping his shoulderblades, grabbing handfuls of his tight little ass. Jon's answering groan feeds Lovett's ego to a heady degree.

"Jon," Emily says, her tone dark and a little bit daunting. "I want you on your knees for Lovett."

The readiness with which Jon sinks, slowly, pointedly to the floor before Lovett sends a rush of blood south. "Oh my god," Lovett says, hands fluttering. "I… tell him, Emily. You need to."

Emily gives him a devilishly encouraging smile. "Open his fly, get his cock out. I want to see you taking your time getting him ready."

Jon's gaze holds Lovett's as he deliberately works the button on Lovett's jeans open. Lovett immediately regrets wearing such tight jeans, as Jon slowly draws the zipper down, each tooth making a small noise in the dense silence of the bedroom. 

Jon makes a satisfied little sound as he yanks the underwear and pants down, freeing Lovett's cock and trapping his thighs together, then shoves him so he's sitting at the edge of the bed. It's both really awkward and also the hottest thing.

"You look so good down there, Jon, god, I never… I tried so hard for so long to not imagine anything like this but here you are. C'mon, Emily, tell him."

"You're so good like this, Jon," she agrees, moving behind Jon and scratching her fingers through his hair. "That mouth was made for this. Use it,” that last uttered low, her fingers curling under his chin to keep his face exactly where it is, tilted up toward Lovett. 

“Lovett, Jon…” he stammers, then swallows. It’s a gorgeous ripple effect down the long line of his throat. Lovett is really going to have a problem here if they don’t move things along soon. 

"Yeah, Jon?" he prompts. "You got something you want to say?"

Favs whines low in his throat and pulls against Emily's hold on his hair, trying to nuzzle closer. She tsks at him, giving him a firm yank to keep him in place, just out of range of Lovett's crotch. It's unspeakably hot, seeing him panting and wanting at Lovett's feet, Emily bent low over his shoulder.

"Tell him," she says. "Tell him what you told me. You said you've been thinking about it, wondering what it would be like. Cut, of course, but you wanted to know everything else. Does he look how you thought he would? You wanted to know so much, Jon, you had so many questions about this moment that I had to strap on and fuck your face. What do you think, now? How will his come taste? He's getting hard for you, just from a little kissing, right? You must look so gorgeous, that fuckable mouth open for him. I know, baby," she croons as he groans, a low frustrated sound that goes straight to Lovett's cock. "Do this, tell him, and he'll let you have a taste." 

"Lovett, please," Jon says, his mouth so close that the words send his breath warm across Lovett's dick. "I want to…"

"What do you want, Jon? You've been thinking about me. It's me, I'm here," he says, feeling a little helpless and a lot fond. "I'll give you what you want, Jon, but you have to ask. Emily says."

Jon huffs a little laugh, then says, slowly and plainly, "Lovett, I want you to fuck my face. Please, I want to tastte you and feel you so far in me I can't breathe, I want your cock down my throat, you can come on me, in me, I don't care, I just want you so fucking much, please…"

"Good boy," Emily says, letting go of his head right as Lovett says "God, yes, do it," and shoves his dick artlessly into the wet heat of Jon's mouth. 

All three of them groan, and Lovett knows that this is all going to be over really fast because he's going to pass out and/or come immediately with Jon looking up at him, his pupils so wide that most of the brown is eclipsed, lips stretched around Lovett and sucking with more enthusiasm than skill. 

"Yeah, slower, babe, that's it, remember the tongue thing," Emily coaches, petting Jon's back idly. 

"What's the tongue th--aaaagh, _fuck_," Lovett says as he feels Jon immediately try whatever technique to extremely good effect. Lovett is having a really hard time deciding whether to stay here and let Jon suck his brains out through the tip of his cock, or do as requested and fuck his face. 

Jon is managing to look a little smug, and starts working Lovett's cock further into his mouth. He reaches up a tentative hand, bold enough to cup Lovett's balls a little and tug, which is encouragement enough for Lovett to hitch forward a little more. 

"He's good for it," Emily tells him, her voice full of pride. "He can even swallow. It took a lot of practice to suppress his gag reflex."

Jon's drooling a little out the side of his mouth, sucking desperate little gasps of air as Lovett groans and fucks into him a little rougher, off-rhythm to test Emily's claims.

"Jon, you're incredible, just look at you, how have we wasted all this time, you're so…" Lovett says. "You are just so _good_." He goes harder, reveling in the tight heat of Jon's mouth, the tiny sounds he's making and the way his lashes kiss his cheeks as he concentrates entirely on blowing Jon's entire mind.  
He's never treated someone this rough, before, not for a blowjob. It's heady, the trust it takes, the way Jon is drifting, nothing else but this thing they're building to together, Jon's subtle invitations for more and harder, Emily's low chuckles of approval as Lovett tightens his grip in Jon's hair and pulls him in until his nose is pressed against Lovett's skin. 

Both men shudder with the intensity of it when Emily pushes him even harder down, her hand on the back of his head. His throat spasms and tears leak down his face, which is blotchy and red with the effort,but he doesn't choke.

"Fuck, Jon," Lovett says, pulling out for a split second and then shoving back in brutally, not giving Jon a chance to recover. "I'm not gonna last, my god, your throat, I'll never be able to look at you again without thinking about how fucking good you are, taking it like this."

Jon sobs, tensing all over, tremors spilling down his body and bringing Lovett very close to the edge. "Was that??" he gasps, looking wildly at Emily, "Did he…??"

She looks so soft and satisfied, kneeling behind Jon with her hands resting comfortably on his hips. "Yeah," she says. "That's our boy. Come on, Lovett. Finish what you started." Her voice is both dare and permission, and Lovett doesn't need to be asked twice. He pumps into Jon's mouth, gone slack, gripping himself at the base and jacking himself through the orgasm that hits him like a freight train. He comes in Jon's mouth, trying to pull out but getting pulled back in by Jon's hands, insistent on his hips.

"Thank you," Jon says, his voice gratifyingly hoarse. "That was… wow." He pillows his face against Lovett's inner thigh, nuzzled uncomfortably close to Lovett's softening cock. 

"Anytime," Lovett says, going for flip bravado and landing miles away in total sincerity. 

"Up, boys." Emily bosses both of them into the luxurious bed, curling herself big spoon behind Jon and giving him long, slow strokes down his arm to his hip. "That was gorgeous, you were both amazing."

"A+ would do again," Lovett quips. Now that they're through, he finds himself already reaching for humor to ground his anxiety as he stares down at the relaxed face of his co-founder. 

Emily tosses him a sharp look over Jon's shoulder. "You good?" she mouths silently at him, damn her for her perceptiveness. He considers putting up a pretense, but that always gets him into trouble with her, so he just offers a tentative smile and holds up a hand, wobbling it in the universal sign for 'eh, sorta-kinda'.

Jon, completely oblivious to Lovett's potential freak out, blinks his eyes open after a moment, grin spreading like the break of day across his face. Lovett can't but smile back, and the open look on Jon's face emboldens him to lean down and kiss him gently. Jon makes a pleased noise, snuggling closer and petting Lovett's neck as they make out like people who have nowhere else to be. It slows Lovett's brain for a sweet moment, and gives him the opportunity to learn that Jon Favreau is basically all lips and limbs after a hot face-fucking scene. 

"Don't run away," Favs says when they break apart. "I gotta… I need to change. Stay. Get Ronan in here, too, okay?"

Emily holds up her phone, wagging it at Favs as he extricates himself from the bed to head to the master bathroom. "Already texted him. Says he wants to hear it from Lovett."

Lovett rolls his eyes. "Get in here!" he yells, pitching his voice to carry down the hall to the living room. 

Ronan steps in just as Jon flops back into bed, naked and clean and sated. He has the presence of mind not to make it awkward by commenting, though Lovett knows the look on his face enough to know it's a struggle.

Jon is, somehow, completely unselfconscious about his nudity, welcoming Ronan with a wave at the pillow by Lovett's head. Ronan sits on the bed with a nerdy little wave at Emily and Jon and a kiss for Lovett. God, it's been, what, half an hour since he'd seen him? It feels like an eternity. 

"You all look very pleased with yourselves," Ronan observes. 

"You are a lucky bastard, you know that right?" Jon says. "He's… that was! I used to roll my eyes whenever you'd beg off on going out when you were living in New York, but fuck, if that's the kind of sex you were having I'm surprised you ever see daylight at all." 

"Pot, kettle!" Ronan laughs. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Emily? Jonathan?" he says. Lovett, distracted by Jon's, well, everything, smiles back. 

"No complaints here," Emily says, and leans over to peck Ronan and Lovett each on the cheek. "Now, extended aftercare in this house generally involves chocolate, snacks, and Bachelor reruns. Who's in?" 

Lovett laughs. "Who could possibly say no to that?" He flops back against the bed, snagging Ronan and pulling him down, too. "We're all in."


End file.
